


Comfort This Way Comes

by Cobalt_sugar_punch



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Comforting, Comforting Muriel, Crippling Distress, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Gender-neutral Reader, Hugs, POV your soft boyfriend is there for you, Panic Attacks, making a new tag today ahaha, self-harm mention, soothing, tw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-08
Updated: 2020-11-08
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:08:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27449140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cobalt_sugar_punch/pseuds/Cobalt_sugar_punch
Summary: Muriel comes for a visit to the shop when Asra's away and finds you having a crippling episode, he holds you until it passes because he's a sweetheart and loves you.
Relationships: Apprentice & Muriel (The Arcana), Apprentice/Muriel (The Arcana), Muriel (The Arcana)/Reader
Comments: 6
Kudos: 77





	Comfort This Way Comes

**Author's Note:**

> So I wrote this in an hour because I was having a really not fun time and am obsessed with this man. Hope y'all get something good out of a short impulse piece 👉👉.

You didn’t know how long you’d been in your bedroom. Long enough that when you looked at the wall, the light beaming from the window had shifted from when you shut yourself in. Not you felt any different. The drowning, choking tide of emotion still numbed your senses and trapped you in your own mind. It crashed over you in waves, reminding you over and over again of your pain. It rocked you from the inside and created a dull buzzing in your ears that clenching your hands over them couldn’t silence, going so far as to stifle your breathing; your lungs could only inhale tightly and stiffly.

The urge to slam your head into the wall, or bite your wrists until the internal pain numbed in comparison, was tantalizing. You couldn’t though. You’d promised. Asra had found you like this before more than once, and soothed you, and healed your bruises while coaxing the promise that you wouldn’t do it anymore. Ramming your knuckles into the stone wall until they split and distracted you wasn’t a solution and you knew that. But that didn’t make the release any less appealing in the moment.

Fuck. The buzzing was circling back louder again, making your brows crease and teeth clench. A loop of the same intrusive, corrosive thoughts was burning its mark into your consciousness. And now the trembling started back up. You squeezed your eyes shut and attempted to think of nothing, to clear your head of all thoughts. Rhythmic breathing. Counting. Grounding methods. If they made any headway, you couldn't tell the difference.

A soft knocking broke your stupor. You took a second to process the sound, and hazily lifted your head to murmur a hoarse "Come in." The door cracked open, just enough for you to see the forest green eye peeking in. "....Y/n?" Muriel asked quietly. A listless "Hi," was the answer he got. The door was pushed wide and the hulking hermit stepped gingerly inside. He took in the sight of you fully and stretched out a huge, coarse-skinned hand, wiping a tear track off your cheek. You had to shift your eyes off his face; it was twisted in anguish and care at your state.

"Can I sit with you?" Always asking before doing, your lover was. It stirred a dull ember of affection in your husk of a chest and you nodded to him with a faint smile. He sat, beside you on the messy bedspread and bowing the mattress. Muriel took your hand and started massaging it. It was the only action in the ensuing quiet. You tried to focus on the sweet pressure, as the moment stretched out into a minute. He was so kind. Always. You didn't deserve him. Tears welled in your eyes once more and you couldn't hide it before he noticed. "Darling," he said lowly. You ashamedly met his gaze in time for his hands to cup your face. The thumbs on your cheekbones swiped at the spilling tears. Fuck. The soft touch, and the love pouring out of his eyes, and the act of wiping away your distress, and the intensity of your state anyway, coalesced into seizing your chest with a sob. It broke the floodgates, and you curled in on yourself in a ball, clutching your knees to your chest and doing your best to hide from his hands.

Muriel's warm paw held your shaking shoulders as he leaned in to ask by your ear: "Can I hold you?" The immediate, nonverbal response was to crawl into his lap, burying your face in his chest. His banded arms clutched gently around your back, which shuddered with agonized sobs. Over the minutes, it would change to aftershocks instead of the act itself. He rubbed the muscles of your lower back and let you soak his front. 

Eventually, you were still, breathing hiccuppy breaths and sniffling. Muriel pressed a kiss to the top of your head and started rocking ever so slightly, like one does with a fussy child. It made your puffy eyelids drift shut and your breathing slowed and evened, becoming deeper. You hugged him back, fingers curling into his cloak. A hand went up and started petting your hair. That was the cherry on top of his efforts, oxytocin pervading your brain from the stroking and mental static muted.

"Do you want to tell me what's wrong?" the ex-gladiator murmured. He wasn't very good at what to do with emotions, but he was endlessly patient.

You shook your head against his solid chest and hugged a little harder. "Okay," he whispered. You would tell him when you were ready. Probably later. This sweetness was too good to ruin with bad stories. And he would wait as long as you needed, no matter what.

•••

  
The rain pattered its fingers down the roof of the magic shop, echoing lightly in your top floor bedroom. It was the sound that first presented itself when you woke from a light doze. Did you not notice it before because you were distressed, or did it start since Muriel came in? It didn't really matter. Muriel had shifted to lay in your bed with you flush on top of him, hands still on your back. So much heat was emitting from his skin that one cheek, laid on his chest, was noticeably warmer than the other. You snatched a comforter from off the side and wrapped the both of you in its cozy embrace; because as much surface area as his big hands covered and his skin heated, you were still cold. He snuggled a bit tighter, squeezing for a moment, and released with a relaxed sigh. You nuzzled your cheek against the soft fabric, with your mind  _ finally _ clear and calm and clean.


End file.
